


Drabbles and Ficlets by Skari and MAE

by Michelle_A_Emerlind, skarlatha



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Drabble Collection, M/M, Skari and MAE write Rickyl, versatile rickyl
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 06:58:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 12,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4010236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michelle_A_Emerlind/pseuds/Michelle_A_Emerlind, https://archiveofourown.org/users/skarlatha/pseuds/skarlatha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of unrelated scenes about Rick Grimes and Daryl Dixon. Some are AUs, some are canon, some are fluff and crack... just a fun little grab bag of things that aren't substantial enough to be full fics in their own rights. Each chapter will have its own tags in the chapter notes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Man of Taste [skarlatha]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Tags: Crack, Established Relationship (but a fairly new one), Oral Sex  
> Author of This Chapter: [skarlatha](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/skarlatha)
> 
> Rick and Daryl have just gotten together, and Daryl keeps not letting Rick give him BJs. But when Rick finds out why... well, Daryl has been hiding some things from Rick. Tasty things.
> 
> This is total crack, you guys. Not even kidding. You have been warned.

Daryl gasped and arched his naked body up against Rick’s, pushing his straining cock harder into Rick’s tight fist. “Fuck, Rick,” he said, almost more whimper than speech. “God, keep going.”

Rick pumped his hand faster on Daryl, leaving dirty open-mouthed kisses on the hunter’s throat. “You like it?” he mumbled against Daryl’s sweat-slick skin. “You want me to make you come?” His hand slowed on Daryl’s hot skin and he lifted his head to meet Daryl’s eyes, pools of black surrounded by the thinnest blue irises Rick had ever seen on the man. Rick smiled wickedly, his teeth showing just slightly, and Daryl groaned and bucked his hips up into Rick’s hand.

“Jesus, you asshole,” Daryl hissed. “Don’t be a fuckin’ tease.”

Rick laughed, leaning down to kiss him. “How close are you?”

“Close enough that I’ll fuckin’ gut you if you quit,” Daryl gritted out through his teeth.

“Hmm,” Rick said. “Then let’s see how you like this.” He quickly slid down Daryl’s body and licked at the tip of Daryl’s cock, letting the little bead of pre-come spread over his tongue. It tasted... sweet. Like chocolate, almost. Like sweet cream. Rick looked up at Daryl. “Huh,” he said, then sucked him all the way in.

Daryl tugged at Rick’s hair. “Pull off,” he rasped, cutting his own words off with a desperate moan. “Pull off. I’m gonna come.”

Rick made a little noise of protest and latched on more firmly, sucking with great purpose and intent. Daryl moaned louder, his eyes rolling back in his head, and he made one more feeble effort to pull Rick’s mouth back before he was coming hard onto Rick’s evil little tongue.

Rick blinked hard and pulled off, running his tongue around his mouth to tease all the flavor out of the corners. “Daryl,” he said, and Daryl frowned a huge frown and wriggled out from under Rick.

“Ain’t a big deal,” Daryl grumbled, reaching for his discarded pants.

“Daryl,” Rick said again. “Did you know...”

“I fuckin’ know, Rick,” Daryl snapped. “Why’d you think I kept not lettin’ you blow me?”

Rick sat up in the bed and touched his fingers to his lips. “Can I...”

“No,” Daryl ground out. “I can’t get it up again that fast, Rick. I ain’t a teenager anymore. ‘Sides, don’t want you suckin’ my dick all the time just so you can get your fix.” He glared at Rick, then stood up and threw on his clothes quickly before storming out.

//

Later, Rick was sitting outside on the porch contemplating life when Carol walked up. “Hey, Rick,” she said, smiling.

Rick blinked at her. “Did you know that Daryl’s spunk tastes like a Cadbury Egg?”

Carol stared at him. “That’s ridiculous,” she said.

Rick shook his head. “I know it sounds crazy, but I swear--”

“I mean, it definitely tastes like grape soda,” Carol said, speaking over him. “Or at least it did back at the prison.”

“What tastes like grape soda?” Glenn asked, poking his head out of the house.

“Daryl’s come,” Carol said, matter-of-factly.

“Oh,” Glenn said, stepping the rest of the way outside. “I thought it tasted like cinnamon apple.”

Rick scowled at him. “You’ve sucked Daryl off too?” he asked. Because okay, Carol, he might have guessed that, but Glenn?

“No,” Glenn said, quickly. “Shane told me.”

“SHANE sucked Daryl off?” Rick and Carol said in unison.

Glenn shifted on his feet awkwardly. “I think it was just once. A hate sex thing. But that’s what he said. Cinnamon apple.”

Michonne slid a window open and stuck HER head out of it. “Who said something about cinnamon apples?” she called out.

“We’re talking about how Daryl’s jizz tastes,” Glenn called back.

“Oh,” Michonne said, leaning forward with her arms on the windowsill. “Merle said it was more like cotton candy.”

“MERLE SUCKED DARYL OFF?” Rick, Carol, and Glenn yelled in unison.

“No, you perverts,” Michonne said, rolling her eyes. “He said some chick told him that.”

“My daddy said that it tasted like butterscotch ripple,” Maggie said from just inside the house.

Everyone just stared at her and she shrugged. “I don’t know how he knew. I didn’t want to ask.”

Rick looked around at the gathered group. “Well, you’re all idiots because it was CLEARLY Cadbury Egg.”

“It’s whatever your favorite thing is, you dumbasses,” Daryl said from deep inside a bush beside the porch. “Now shut up about it and leave me alone.”

The group just stared at the bush, and eventually Daryl cursed loudly and crashed his way out of it. “Nosy-ass fuckers,” he muttered, and they all watched in silence as he stomped off down the street.

//

“Hey, Daryl,” Rosita said, leaning over the frame of Daryl’s motorcycle while he crouched beside it working on the engine.

“Hey,” he muttered. “Need somethin’?”

She hmmed and leaned over farther, her breasts precariously close to spilling out of her shirt. “I thought I might ask if YOU needed something.”

Daryl stared at her blankly. “Guess I could use a couple more spark plugs...”

“Baby, we will spark your plug,” Abraham said from behind Rosita. “We will BOTH spark your plug.”

Daryl stood up, wiping his hands on his shop rag. “Out.”

Abraham pouted. “But Glenn said--”

“OUT,” Daryl said again, pointing at the door.

They left.

//

“I’m pulling you off of recruiting duty,” Deanna said later when Daryl showed up at her house in response to her summons.

“Why?” Daryl asked, frowning. “Aaron says I’m doing good.”

Deanna smiled brightly. “You are, you are. It’s just that I’ve recently found out that you have some special talents that might be better used inside Alexandria. To boost morale, as it were.”

Daryl just stared at her silently.

“And really, isn’t it every man’s dream to just sit back and... ah... receive fellatio all day?” Deanna smiled again, a broad politician smile. “Seems like a dream job to me.”

“No,” Daryl said, and he stood up and left the house.

//

“Eric’s birthday is in a few days,” Aaron said as he and Daryl walked through a field to find the rabbit Daryl had just shot.

Daryl grunted in acknowledgement and kept scanning the tall grass for the dead rabbit.

“Keep trying to think of something to get him as a present. I found this nice jacket on a run last week but that doesn’t seem personal enough.”

Daryl raised an eyebrow. “Ain’t good at gift ideas, man.”

Aaron smiled awkwardly and kept talking. “You know, before the apocalypse he used to love Rocky Road ice cream--”

“Say one more word an’ I’ll shoot you,” Daryl growled, and Aaron (wisely) shut up.

//

“RICK GRIMES, I WILL PUNCH YOU IN YOUR FUCKING TEETH,” Daryl shouted, pointing his finger at the constable and scowling ferociously.

Rick gave him huge, sad eyes. “I’m just saying that I love you,” he said. “That’s all.”

“You just want to blow me out of love and the goodness of your heart,” Daryl said, raising an eyebrow. “Not buying it.”

“I want to blow you because it will feel really good for you,” Rick whined.

“And because you have a huge fuckin’ sweet tooth,” Daryl grumbled.

Rick sighed heavily. “Daryl, honey, I am just saying that you would enjoy me giving you head and also there is no longer any such thing as a Cadbury Egg in this world.”

Daryl rolled his eyes. “Fine. FINE. But only you, Rick. Ain’t lettin’ everybody in Alexandria gargle my junk.”

Rick’s eyes lit up.

Daryl smiled and pulled off his belt, and Rick lunged forward, and neither of them got any sleep at all that night. But Rick... well, Rick did not give the slightest shit about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, I can't believe I did this. I am so ashamed. And here you guys thought I was a Serious AuthorTM. I promise I'm working on some serious fics too, but everybody needs a little cracky humor sometimes, right?  
> Love, Skari


	2. Two Out of Three [skarlatha]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Tags: Established Relationship, Alexandria Setting, Muffins  
> Author of This Chapter: [skarlatha](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/skarlatha)
> 
> Daryl is determined to make breakfast for his man.
> 
> Reminder that these chapters are stand-alone scenes and are not related to each other. So Daryl doesn't have particularly tasty bodily fluids in this one.

Rick heard the crash and didn’t even have time to panic before Daryl’s voice came booming out of the kitchen of their house in Alexandria, pissed-off but not sounding injured or frightened.

“GodDAMMIT,” Daryl bellowed. “Fucking piece of shit asshole fuckin’ hell-muffins!”

There was another crash that sounded distinctly like a heavy hiking boot hitting the metal of the oven. “Ha, see how you like THAT, you muffin-ruinin’ motherfucker,” Daryl muttered, still loud enough for Rick to hear from the living room.

“Daryl?” Rick called out. “Do you need help?”

“No, I do not need your goddamn help, Rick,” Daryl yelled, then there was a hiss of pain and Rick stood up.

“You sure? That sounded painful,” Rick said, leaning toward the kitchen but not quite taking a step toward it.

“Just burnt myself on the fuckin’ oven rack,” Daryl growled out. “‘M fine. Sit your ass down.”

Rick sat his ass down and forced himself to pick back up the book he’d been trying to read. He’d gotten another half a page into Middle-Earth before he heard a sniffle from the kitchen. Rick tossed the book onto the couch and scurried in to check on Daryl.

The hunter was sitting on the floor beside the open oven door, apron stretched tight over his belly, covered in muffin batter and trying to mop up the remains of the breakfast he’d insisted on making from the still-warm depths of the oven. “ _Ouch_ ,” he hissed again, snatching his thumb back and sucking on it before he noticed Rick standing there and looked up at him with tragic, tear-filled eyes.

“Oh no,” Rick said, falling to his knees beside the other man. “Don’t cry, baby. It’s okay.”

“I promised you muffins and I _fucked up the muffins_ , Rick,” Daryl ground out, reaching back toward the oven and trying to scoop up a large dollop of batter. “An’ this is all they had in the pantry an’ they won’t let me check out any more an’ now we’re gonna have to ask _fuckin’ Jessie_ for muffin mix an’ I’m a huge fuckin’ failure at bein’ a housewife, Rick. Knew I would be. Told you I would be. But _no_ , you said, no, I’d be _good_ at this shit, at makin’ _goddamn muffins_ for my _fuckin’ man_ , Rick. But clearly this is _not the case_.” He reached for the spilled batter again and Rick grabbed his wrist.

“You’re good at this stuff,” Rick said, pulling Daryl’s hand up for a kiss. “Everybody drops the muffins sometimes, baby. It’s okay.”

Daryl sighed heavily and curled into Rick’s chest. “Wish you’d let me go hunting. ‘M good at _that_.”

“You’re seven months pregnant, Daryl. You’re not goin’ out there again until the baby comes,” Rick said, kissing the top of Daryl’s head. “We’ve been over that.”

“Maybe we wouldn’t _be_ in this predicament if you hadn’t been all _oh, Daryl, just let me come in your ass, we’re both dudes so it’s okay_ ,” Daryl grumbled. “Knowin’ full well that this dumbass zombie plague’s done fucked up everybody’s anatomy an’ even Jenner said he didn’t have no idea what all it done to us. An’ now I’m p-pregnant. An’ I can’t even _make muffins_ , Rick. How am I supposed to _raise a kid_ when I can’t even _make muffins for its daddy_?” He laid his batter-covered hand on his swollen belly and took a deep breath, a single tear rolling down his cheek that he swiped at angrily with his free hand, smearing batter and semi-melted chocolate chips all over his face.

“It’s okay,” Rick said, pulling Daryl’s red shop rag out of his back pocket and wiping carefully at the batter on the other man’s cheek. “You make great muffins, baby. This was just a freak accident, okay? And we still have brownie mix, right? You can make us some brownies instead.”

Daryl sniffed again and pushed Rick away gently, then struggled to his feet and straightened his apron over his huge stomach. “I can do that,” he said. He patted his midsection. “We can make your daddy brownies, right, lil’ peanut? Yep, we can do that.” He nodded firmly as if he was giving himself and the baby a pep talk.

“Can I help?” Rick asked, wiping up the rest of the batter out of the oven and closing the door.

Daryl whirled around and glared at him. “We do _not need your goddamn help_ , Rick. Done _said_ that. Now just go read your damn book an’ let us make you breakfast, you got me?”

Rick bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smiling. “I got you.”

“Damn straight,” Daryl said. “Didn’t want no fuckin’ muffins no way. Now get outta here.”

Rick leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Daryl’s lips. He earned a vicious swat from a mixing spoon for his audacity, but it was totally worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somebody talk me out of turning this into a full mpreg fic. I have too many plot bunnies as it is and I should NOT be thinking about writing pregnant Alexandria Daryl. Right? RIGHT? Is this thing on?
> 
> Title is because, well, Daryl did have boots on.


	3. The Still Life of a Dick [MAE]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl is an art student and Rick is the nude model. Crack for all!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Tags: Nudity, Language, and Nice Art Models :D  
> Author of this Chapter: [Michelle A Emerlind](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Michelle_A_Emerlind/pseuds/Michelle_A_Emerlind)
> 
> Tumblr Links:  
> [MAE's Rickyl Fics and Recs](http://maerickyl.tumblr.com/): Where you can find a list of my fanfic, fanfic recs, and snippets of works in progress.  
> [Michelle A. Emerlind](http://michelleaemerlind.tumblr.com/): My general tumblr where I put stuff? And things? And just whatever I want.

The carpet matched the drapes. In this case, the carpet was the shaggy-ass raggedy beard of the guest model that Mr. Horvath just insisted on them drawing and the drapes were, well…the drapes. The drapes of the guest model. The pube drapes. The very same pube drapes that Daryl was trying his darndest to capture on a 12 by 16 inch canvas with stunning watercolors and dammit if he hadn’t gotten the curls just right.

Beside him, Merle busted out laughing for the billionth time and for the billion and oneth time, Daryl told him to shut his face and go home, that Daryl hadn’t asked Merle to pick him up after 230: Intermediate Modeling and that he sure as hell hadn’t asked Merle to just sit with him through class.

Merle pointed at the model’s artfully shrinking junk in the cold breeze of the classroom and made a crude joke about fluffing and Daryl had just the mind to throw the 12 by 16 canvas away and instead use the 9 by 7 canvas of Merle’s fucking face. On which he would draw a very big and very elegant dick. With balls. And the right curl to the drapes.

Daryl huffed and drew a cute little circle for the belly button and as he looked up to to put the right finishing touches on Mr. Beard’s strangely groomed happy trail, he caught the man’s gaze. Daryl swallowed. There was no way in hell that the colors he had were going to do those eyes justice. And then…the man winked at him and gave a slow, sensual kind of smile and suddenly there seemed to be absolutely no need for any kind of fluffing.

Merle made a little gasping sound that sounded somewhere between a five-year-old whose sister had ate the last cookie and a dying chihuahua and spun around to face Daryl with his eyes as round as the craters on the moon. “Daryl,” he hissed. “That dick is hard for you.”

And so it was. Daryl gave a little grunt that might have just been a tiny one of satisfaction and reached for his paintbrush. He drew a graceful slope up from the groin area on the canvas and tried really hard not to imagine what his mouth would look like painted there.


	4. Reallocation [MAE]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Tags: Language, Gross Overuse of University Budget Procedures, Pencil Throwing :D  
> Author of this Chapter: [Michelle A Emerlind](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Michelle_A_Emerlind/pseuds/Michelle_A_Emerlind)
> 
> Tumblr Links:  
> [MAE's Rickyl Fics and Recs](http://maerickyl.tumblr.com/): Where you can find a list of my fanfic, fanfic recs, and snippets of works in progress.  
> [Michelle A. Emerlind](http://michelleaemerlind.tumblr.com/): My general tumblr where I put stuff? And things? And just whatever I want.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I work at a university that's currently undergoing a lot of budget reductions. There's a lot of talk around campus about who is getting cut and how much, etc. And so...I just couldn't help myself.

“No, no, no, nononononono--”

“DEAN GRIMES,” Michonne said from across her desk, leaning forward menacingly and deepening her frown even more, if that was possible, “if you do not STOP throwing pencils at Dean Dixon, I will personally _suspend_ your ass, is that clear?”

Rick frowned, but pulled the pencil that was being prepared to be vaulted back to his seat. “...yes, Provost Michonne.”

“ _Thank you_. Now! Will someone please _explain_ why in my individual meeting with Grimes, Dixon decided to show up _too_.”

“Because he’s a busybody,” Rick cut in, but Daryl glared and spoke over him.

“It has come to my attention that the administration of this college is planning to _remove_ the twenty thousand dollars that Grimes needs to reduce from his budget and add that to _my_ budget reduction and, Michonne, I just don’t have that kind of money to give up. So I would like the chance to argue for my poor engineers who take on extra advisement--”

“Bbbbbbbuuuulllllsssssshhhhiiiitttttt,” Rick sang in his direction. “Look, my professors teach more hours than yours, advise more than yours, and generally make my students’ lives _better_ than yours, so we deserve to keep our funds, k thanks.”

“What students you _have_.”

“... _what_ did you say to me?”

Daryl crossed his arms and sat back in his chair, looking at Michonne and not at Rick. “You have a decreased enrollment because no one gives a rat’s ass hair about history.”

“AH!” Rick said, offended. “PROVOST MICHONNE. Please tell Dean Dixon to be a professional and keep his vile opinions to _himself_.”

“Provost Michonne,” Daryl said with his arms still crossed, “please tell Dean Grimes to stop acting like a toddler throwing a tantrum when faced with cold, hard facts.”

“You know _very well_ , _Daryl_ ,” Rick continued with a huff, “that my division is not just _history_. It is also sociology, anthropology, and criminal justice which is how I know the _ethical standards_ by which I judge your lying ass. You cannot count that time that you _personally_ \--he _personally,_ Michonne--came into one of my classrooms as a guest speaker and then convinced all forty students to change their majors to engineering.”

Daryl shrugs. “Couldn’t convince them unless there was something there in the first place. Maybe they just wanted to make an actual difference in the world. You know, do something practical like build buildings for all of us to live in and design structures that are efficient and practical and invest in technologies that are the way of the future instead of gush like an old hag about ‘oh my god, aren’t those rocks awesome?’”

“FOR THE LAST TIME, STONEHENGE IS A MARVEL OF THE ANCIENT WORLD.”

Daryl scoffed. “Ancient? Yeah, you’d know about that.”

“WHAT are you implyin--”

“Shave your beard.”

“MICHONNE. He has resorted to personal insults now to get his way like a petulant child. I don’t think this is appropriate behavior for the _workplace_.”

“He started it.”

“ _I_ started it! You called me a hag!”

“Well, yesterday, you said my bridge was ugly.”

“You’re a piece of work!”

“No, YOU’RE a piece of work. An old, moldy, _historical_ wor--”

“GENTLEMEN!” Michonne said, slapping her desk and rising. “Dean Grimes, don’t you throw that pencil.”

Rick glared, but lowered the pencil back down to his lap again. “NOW. I think we are _civil adults_ , so I think we can come to a compromise. Dean Grimes. Please tell Dean Dixon his work is valid.”

Rick stuck his nose in the air. “I will not compromise my principles.”

Michonne sighed. “Fine. Dixon. Tell Grimes his work is valid.”

Daryl rolled his eyes. “I don’t believe in reinforcing failure.”

Michonne stared back and forth at both of them and then shrugged. “Fine. I was going to do this anyway, but you two have made it easy for me. Fifty thousand. Will come out of _each_ of your budgets.”

Both men’s jaws dropped. “FIFTY?!?” Daryl said. “But I had twenty and he had thirty and--”

“Where are you going to put the extra fifty?” Rick finished.

Michonne pointed behind them to the glass windows at the back of her office where Dean Carol was standing smug with her arms crossed and her stance wide. “Early Childcare Development.”

“The _daycare program_?” Daryl spat out.

Carol grinned through the glass at them and stuck out her tongue and then began a complex and overly exaggerated victory dance. Both Rick and Daryl glared.

“Provost,” Rick said in a pleading tone, turning back around. “My staff just can’t take any additional cuts. Where am I supposed to get the money?”

“And I’m starting up a girl’s camp for women in engineering. Do you _not_ want female representation?”

Michonne rolled her eyes and grabbed two folders on her desk, flipping them open. “Daryl,” she said, “you have a secretary and two office workers and Rick, you have a teacher retiring and a secretary. All of those funds add up to one hundred and thirty thousand. So I figure if you cut out all of that and, here’s the kicker, _share_ a secretary between your offices that are right next to each other anyway...you’ll be _just_ fine.” She gave them a plastic smile and tossed both folders back on her desk.

“But--” Daryl started.

“Do. Not. But. Me. I take katana lessons on the weekends, Dean Dixon. _For stress_. And I am so very, _very_ close to whipping my sword out right now and getting rid of the stress that’s right in front of me in this office. NOW. I have to go talk to the university president, if you’ll excuse me. Tidy up after you leave.”

And with that, she stalked her way out of the office, leaving the two men alone. Daryl sighed super hard and stood up, walking to the door himself. He paused and turned around, still glaring at Rick. “We still on for Saturday night?”

Rick narrowed his eyes. “You know I’m going to fuck you so hard for this, right?”

Daryl grinned. “What position? You know, engineers invented those, too.” And with his nose stuck in the air, he left, Rick rushing after him to start complaining about how without sociology, no one would even know about the history of sex culture.

 

 


	5. Hickory Dickory Dock [MAE]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl's just been caught...
> 
> Skarlatha gave me the prompt: "One of the boys walks into a room and the other one immediately says 'this isn't what it looks like.'" This is where my mind went from there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Tags: Language, Animal Hoarding, Daryl Being Cute as a Button, Rick Being Unable to Process :D  
> Author of this Chapter: [Michelle A Emerlind](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Michelle_A_Emerlind/pseuds/Michelle_A_Emerlind)
> 
> Tumblr Links:  
> [MAE's Rickyl Fics and Recs](http://maerickyl.tumblr.com/): Where you can find a list of my fanfic, fanfic recs, and snippets of works in progress.  
> [Michelle A. Emerlind](http://michelleaemerlind.tumblr.com/): My general tumblr where I put stuff? And things? And just whatever I want.

Rick blinked. And then he blinked again, as if blinking could somehow either take the sight in front of him away or at least make it into some kind of sense. But alas, it didn’t, and so, just for good measure, he blinked a third time.

Panicked, Daryl held up his hands in front of him defensively. “Rick,” he exclaimed, “this isn’t what it looks like.”

What _did_ it look like? That’s what Rick’s brain was trying to process. Because surrounding Daryl’s feet on all sides in a pile of little chattering bodies was about a hundred squirrels. Rick looked at the walls just to confirm that yes, they were still in the prison, then down at his feet to confirm that, yes, the entire floor had astroturf laid out on it, then to outer edges of the room lined with what looked like squirrel houses with food and water.

Rick blinked again. He was pretty sure that his brain was fried. “It looks...like you’re housing squirrels, Daryl,” he finally said and Daryl blushed.

“I, um….”

“Are those...is that a ten pound bag of hickory nuts?”

“No?” Daryl said, his voice oddly squeaky.

Rick could really only think of one thing to say. “... _why_?”

“I, um,” Daryl cleared his throat and lowered his hands. He opened his mouth to explain when a red squirrel launched itself from the ground and grabbed onto his belt, quickly skirting up the length of his shirt to reach the top of his head. It squeaked at Rick. Rick squeaked back, the only difference being that Rick’s squeak was filled with spontaneity and terror. “...that’s Albuquerque,” Daryl said. “I named him Albuquerque because he’s a dick and no one likes Albuquerque. I, uh, okay, so I thought I was going out and hunting damn squirrels all day to feed everyone right? And so I thought, you know, what if we had a squirrel farm? Right?” He chuckled nervously. “Our ancestors did it with rabbits and cows and shit. So what if we bred ‘em so we could eat ‘em. But then...they’re so damn cute, Rick. So I kind of...didn’t...tell anyone.”

“Oh,” Rick said and put his hands on his belt, looking at the ground and nodding as if that made any kind of sense. The astroturf under his feet mocked him. “How, um, long?”

Daryl squinted one eye shut to think. Nestled in his hair, Albuquerque tilted his head, too, and Rick started to wonder if maybe he was hallucinating again. “Third night we got here?”

Rick choked. He coughed it out and finally said, “You’ve been _harbouring_ squirrels? Since the _third night_ we got here?”

Daryl frowned. “You make it sound like this is the underground squirrel railroad. I wouldn’t say _harboring_. It’s just...I pick up nuts...while I’m out on runs...and grass...and things...and at first there were just three and then...Albuquerque got busy. But who am I going to get rid of, Rick? Huh? Tallahassee? Madison? Helena? _San Jose_? Rick, do you want me to get rid of _San Jose_?” Daryl leaned down and fished in the sea of fur until he pulled out a tiny young squirrel with huge black eyes that looked at Rick like it might cry.

Rick decided he might need to go see Hershel after this.

“N-no, Daryl, you don’t have to get rid of San Jose. But...well...you might need to think about population control?”

“I’m not putting tiny condoms on my squirrels, Rick.”

Rick blinked, squeaked, cleared his throat, blink-squeaked again. “Well...no…”

Daryl sighed. “But I guess I could take the next room over and separate the girls and boys.” He pulled Albuquerque from his head. “Don’t worry, bud. I’ll still let you visit Memphis. But no humping.” He put the red squirrel down with the rest and ducked his head shyly at Rick. “You’re not mad at me?”

Rick laughed and then walked forward through a sea of squirrels. “Daryl,” he said and put his hand on Daryl’s cheek and then leaned in slowly and pressed his lips to Daryl’s. “I could never be mad at you and your big heart.” He grinned and kissed him again with more passion and they lost themselves for a minute in each other and the surprisingly comforting sound of squirrel chirping.


	6. In the Midnight Hour [skarlatha]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Tags: Established Relationship, Phone Sex, Before the Wedding  
> Author of This Chapter: [skarlatha](http://archiveofourown.org/users/skarlatha)
> 
> Rick and Daryl aren't allowed to see each other before the wedding, but Rick is starting to panic about last-minute wedding details. Daryl has a plan to help him calm down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is for Michelle, because it's her birthday and I felt like writing a little semi-fluffy porn for her. You can tell I wrote it because it's got people up against walls and that's how I do. 
> 
> Chapter title is from Billy Idol's "Rebel Yell" and I don't have a good reason why. ;)

Daryl’s phone rings. He looks over at the screen, where Rick’s face stares back at him with the officer’s phone number over his nose. It’s not a flattering picture since Daryl had snapped it from outside the truck when he’d come out from work to find the other man sleeping against the window of the vehicle, his mouth hanging open and a tiny trickle of drool making its way down the window glass, but then again Daryl is fairly certain that the picture that comes up when _he_ calls _Rick_ comes from the Work Christmas Party That Shall Not Be Mentioned and so he has no sympathy for the other man.

He looks around the room, empty except for a few chairs, a floor-length mirror, and three haphazard piles of discarded clothes, then picks up the phone and answers.

“Daryl,” Rick whines before Daryl can even say anything. “It’s still _hours_.”

Daryl rolls his eyes. “You’re even less patient than Merle, you know that?”

“Yeah, but Merle’s only ever waiting on pizza delivery or his Hot Pockets to finish heating up,” Rick points out. “So his not being patient is a character flaw. Mine is just that I _miss_ you.”

Daryl smiles to himself and leans back in his chair, playing with his cufflinks and trying not to mess up his hair, which he’d actually put serious effort into today for once in his life. “Was your idea to have the whole shebang an’ get ferns an’ ice sculptures an’ swans an’ shit. If we’d’a just gone down to the courthouse like I said we should, we’d be havin’ anniversary sex right now instead of waitin’ on Martinez to get back from the Home Depot with more tulle.”

There’s a pause, then the tiniest of horrified whispers from Rick’s end of the phone: “... _we ran out of tulle_?”

“Rick--”

“How could we have run out? I measured the damn aisle sixty-seven times, Daryl. I ordered ten more feet of it than I thought we’d need.”

“Rick--”

“I bet it was Tara. She put too much tulle in the arch, didn’t she? She put too much in the arch and now there’s not enough for the aisle and everything is _ruined_ \--”

“Got my cock in my hand,” Daryl rumbles, using the exact tone and pitch that he knows never fails to make Rick’s pupils dilate. He doesn’t have his cock in his hand, but Rick doesn’t know that, and the little white lie is instantly effective at derailing Rick’s panic session.

“...what?” There’s a faint smacking sound that has to be Rick licking his lips.

Daryl gets up and flips the lock on the door before sitting back down and carefully undoing his tux pants and sliding his hand inside. “Be a bit before Caesar gets back. You alone in there?”

“...you can’t come in here. It’s bad luck.”

Daryl gives himself a long, firm stroke and lets his breath go ragged, knowing Rick can hear it. “Ain’t comin’ over there. Stayin’ right here.” He pauses, slides his hand down farther to squeeze his balls, feeling them start to tighten under his own touch. “But if I was over there, I’d start off by kissin’ you slow, putting my hands in your hair an’ pulling it a little, just the way you like it.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath and then Rick’s voice is farther away. “Carl. Shane. Get out. No, now. I mean it. Out out out.” There are rustling sounds, then the shutting of a door, and then Rick is back, breathless and eager. “It’s been so long,” he whines.

“Your idea to stop fucking three months before the wedding, darlin’,” Daryl points out, going back to stroking himself lazily. “But more important things now. I’d sit in your lap, kiss your throat while I ground down against you.”

Rick whimpers. “Are we naked?”

“Don’t know, baby, you tell me,” Daryl says. He twists his wrist and doesn’t try to hold in the soft moan he wrings from himself.

“No,” Rick whispers. “I’d be unbuttoning your shirt, though. Licking my way over your chest while I rock my hips up into you.”

“Mmm,” Daryl says, speeding up his pace a bit. “Enjoy grinding on me now, baby, ‘cause you’re gettin’ fucked up against your dressing room door before this little fantasy’s over.”

Rick moans breathlessly into the phone. “Then I better push you off of me so we can get these damn pants off.”

“Yeah,” Daryl grunts. “Naked now?”

“Fuck yes,” Rick practically whimpers. “Throw me against the wall, baby. I’m ready for you.”

Daryl lets out a husky laugh, wedging his phone between his shoulder and his cheek so he can get both hands involved. “No you’re not. That’d be takin’ all the fun away from me slidin’ my fingers in your tight ass, workin’ you open so you can take my dick.”

“ _Daryl_ ,” Rick groans.

“Been three months since you had anything in there. Bet you’re tight and hot like a virgin again. Just waitin’ on me to split you open, make you scream for it.” He strokes hard, squeezing the base of his own cock, and lets out a soft groan that he’s sure rings in Rick’s ears despite the low volume.

“Daryl, I can’t...”

Daryl smirks at the pure desperation in Rick’s voice and speeds up his own strokes, imagining the way Rick’s ass always fits him just right, the way when he’s fucking Rick it’s like nothing else in the world even exists, much less actually _matters_. And he can’t even _think_ about the other positions: having Rick’s cock in his own ass, having his dick press up against the back of Rick’s throat, tracing the line of Rick’s back as it arches like a sunrise while the other man rides him.

Daryl grunts, his cock twitching in his hand. “Remember the first time I fucked you? Up against your truck outside that bar while Merle was beltin’ out that godawful karaoke… fuck, you were so tight. So fuckin’ desperate for me. You gonna be like that again now?”

Rick gasps. “Keep talkin’, Daryl, I’m so close…”

“So you’re up against the door,” Daryl drawls. His own breath is coming fast now and he’s lost the rhythm of his strokes, too busy picturing Rick shoved up against the wall of his dressing room, pants around his legs. “I get done fingerin’ you open an’ I just _slide_ in, hittin’ you just right like nobody else is ever gonna get to do. ‘Cause after today you’re _mine_ , baby.” He gasps too, his hips jerking upward, and he bites his lip for a second before speaking again, breathless and rough. “Tell me how good I feel in you.”

“God,” Rick moans. “You’re bein’ rough with me, slamming me into the wall. Nothin’ ever feels as good as you do in me.”

“I fuckin’ love you, Rick,” Daryl growls out. “Come for me, baby. One last time before we’re just an old married couple.”

“ _Jesus._ ” The word is long, drawn out, rough and wild and the hitch in Rick’s voice when he says it undoes Daryl, who bucks up into his hand and only just manages to get his embroidered handkerchief out to catch his orgasm before he ruins his tux.

They stay on the phone while their breathing calms down, and after a few seconds, Rick laughs softly. “Well, _I_ feel much calmer now.”

Daryl chuckles back, carefully tucking himself into his pants again. “You get it all over your clothes?”

There’s a pause, then a quiet “ _shit_ ” from Rick’s end of the phone.

Daryl laughs again and lets his head fall back so he’s staring at the ceiling. “Leave it. I wanna see when we get up to the altar.”

“You’re a dirty bastard, Daryl Dixon.”

“Yeah,” Daryl says, still smirking a bit. “But you love me anyway.”

“You’re right,” Rick says back, and Daryl can hear the warmth in his voice. “I do.”

 


	7. She'll Change Her Name Today [skarlatha]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter Tags** : Established Relationship, Fluff, Angst (But the Good Kind), Post-Apocalypse  
>  **Author of This Chapter** : skarlatha
> 
> A quiet moment with Rick and Daryl as they get ready for Judith's wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for [TWDObsessive](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TWDObsessive/pseuds/TWDObsessive) on the occasion of her posting the last chapter of her latest long fic, "[Unspoken](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4668044/chapters/10652276)." Congrats on letting your little fic fly from the nest! 
> 
> Sorry for two wedding-related ficlets in a row... it wasn't intentional! And this one is unrelated to the previous one. It's un-betaed so sorry for any mistakes! Oh, and the title is from "Butterfly Kisses" for obvious reasons.

“I can’t do it,” Rick says, tugging at the crumpled mess he’d made of his tie. He jerks the silk away from his neck and stands there in front of the mirror, head bowed and hands shaking, then raises his hand to his mouth and presses it against his own lips, his beard rough against his palm.

“Jesus, Rick, I done showed you how to do it ten times,” Daryl says from the bedroom to their house, one they’d built for themselves in the Georgia mountains twelve years ago, after the tanks had rolled through the wasted streets of the country administering the vaccine that would keep the dead from coming back. There are still walkers in the woods, but they’re few and far between now--a combination of normal decomposition, a lack of new additions to their ranks, and the reinvigorated hope of the living as they finally banded together to exterminate them once and for all.

Society’s not back to what it was, of course. It never will be, not while there are still people who remember the horror of its fall. But there are things now that Rick had never hoped to see again. Things like stable electricity, fresh bread, non-expired aspirin. Condoms, too, although Daryl had given those one half-assed try before throwing them in the trash and announcing that they’d been fucking for twenty years without them with no ill effects and he sure as hell wasn’t about to start using them now.

Rick looks up into the mirror to see Daryl walking into the bathroom behind him. They’re both showing their age now--Rick’s hair and beard turned a rather Santa-Claus-ish shade of white while Daryl’s had stayed dark, more pewter than silver, both of them softer about their midsections but still in-shape, still strong, still ready for the other shoe to drop. And maybe Daryl’s face has gotten more wrinkles, his tattoos have turned more diffused and lighter, and he’s been forced to start fighting the good fight against random ear hair in the last couple of years, but fuck if he isn’t still the most gorgeous thing Rick has ever laid eyes on.

Daryl puts his hands on Rick’s shoulders and turns him slowly until they’re face-to-face. He takes the tie and loops it around Rick’s neck, sliding it under the collar of his dress shirt and working quickly to tie it for him. “You just wanted me to come in here and do it for you.”

Rick laughs softly, looking down at Daryl’s hands as they move on the tie. “I didn’t mean… this.”

Daryl’s hands still for a moment, then he finishes the tie and lifts his hand to press his fingers against Rick’s bearded chin and gently tilt the man’s head up. Rick locks his eyes on Daryl’s, still breathtaking and sharp after all these years, and he can’t help but to lean forward and brush a soft kiss over the other man’s lips. Daryl uses the hand he still has on the tie to pull him in a little closer, returning the kiss with slow movements, his mouth warm on Rick’s.

When they drift apart again, Daryl arches an eyebrow at Rick. “What did you mean, then?”

“Give her away,” Rick whispers. “She’s my little girl, Daryl. _Our_ little girl. How did she get this old? God, you were teaching her to ride a bike last week, it seems like.”

Daryl lets one corner of his mouth quirk upward and he slides his arm around Rick’s waist to keep them close. “Think you’re off by ‘bout fifteen years, there, Rick.”

Rick smacks Daryl lightly on the chest and then leaves his hand there, fingers splayed over Daryl’s heart. “What’ll we do without her?”

“Have a lot more kitchen sex, for one thing,” Daryl mutters, and Rick laughs but smacks him again. Daryl kisses Rick softly again, just a press of lips this time. “She ain’t goin’ far, Rick. Jus’ down the road. An’ you like James. He’s a good guy.”

“Yeah, well, good intentions don’t keep my little girl alive,” Rick grumbles. “He’s not… he doesn’t know how to protect her.”

Daryl flicks his eyes back up to Rick’s and smiles softly. “World’s changed, Rick. An’ besides, Judy can take plenty good care of herself. She don’t need no man to watch over her.”

Rick pouts a little. “But I _liked_ watchin’ over her. Made me feel important.”

“Didn’t mean it like that. A girl always needs her daddies takin’ care of her. An’ we’ll be close by if she ever needs us.” Daryl pats Rick’s cheek, letting the motion turn into a caress. “She loves you, Rick. Always will. This don’t change nothin’ except I don’t have to shoot as many squirrels for breakfast.”

“I don’t want to let her go,” Rick says, almost too softly to hear.

“We ain’t lettin’ her go.” Daryl moves his hand back to tangle in Rick’s white curls. “We’ll see her all the time. Hell, we’ll keep her room for her. Just like it is. She’s our little girl an’ she always will be.”

They stand there like that for a long time, eyes locked and hearts beating in unison. Then, finally, Rick steps away from Daryl and turns back to the mirror, taking a deep breath and watching his own chest rise and fall with it. “Okay. I can do this. How do I look?”

Daryl leans back against the wall and crosses his arms over his chest, watching Rick with sparkling, hooded eyes. “Like a fuckin’ silver fox, man,” he drawls, then honest-to-god growls like a wolf, and Rick bursts into peals of laughter. Daryl smirks and then straightens his own tie and pushes away from the wall. “Come on, man. Can’t be late for Lil’ Asskicker’s wedding.”

Rick smiles and takes Daryl's hand as they walk out the door together, heading off to send their daughter out into the world.


	8. Georgia On My Mind [skarlatha]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Tags: College AU, Rick and Daryl are BFFs, Confessions  
> Author of This Chapter: [skarlatha](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/skarlatha)
> 
> Daryl and Rick have been best friends for years, and they're keeping their friendship alive with long phone conversations now that they're in separate colleges in different states. One night, Daryl is struggling with an essay, and Rick encourages him to finish it. 
> 
> For [hamiltrashed](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/hamiltrashed), as an incentive to write her philosophy essay.

 “You’re not typing.”

Daryl glances at his cell phone, sitting beside his beat-up hand-me-down laptop. Rick’s photo is lit up on the screen, the numbers under it ticking up slowly while their speakerphone conversation goes on. For just a moment, Daryl wonders if normal best friends do this, stay on speakerphone for upwards of four hours at a time, but then he remembers that Rick is being irritating and so he glares at the screen. “You don’t know what I’m doing. Maybe I’m typing real quietly.”

“Maybe,” Rick says. “But you’re not.”

Daryl grunts. “You ain’t my momma. An’ this paper’s bullshit anyway. Why the fuck should I care about some jackass lived in the 1600s who can’t even make up his own damn mind about what he wants to say?”

“Because the core of a liberal arts education is the idea that students should have a broad range of knowledge about a variety of different subjects that will make them better citizens of an expanding global society,” Rick quotes at him, and after twelve years of friendship Daryl can just _tell_ that the bastard is waggling his eyebrows.

“Yeah, well, you can take your liberal arts education and stick it where the sun don’t shine, hoss,” Daryl grumbles, then sighs and opens his philosophy textbook again, squinting at the page and furrowing his brow.

“You’re cute when you’re grumpy,” Rick says quietly, and Daryl’s eyes flick down at the phone again and he swallows hard, willing his heartbeat to stay at a normal speed even though holy shit does it want to do backflips when Rick uses that particular low drawl.

But that’s not something a man’s supposed to think about his best friend. So he just grunts and goes back to the textbook, then sighs _super_ heavily and starts typing again, using only the pointer finger of each hand and pecking out each word painfully slowly. He gets a few more sentences in before Rick interrupts him again.

“How far along are you?”

“Two pages less than I would be if you’d stop fucking bothering me,” Daryl mutters, and Rick laughs.

“Hang up then,” Rick challenges. “If I’m annoying you so much.”

Daryl rolls his eyes and continues pecking at the keyboard. “Nah,” he says. “Too quiet in here without you buggin’ me every ten seconds.”

“You’re close to being done, right?” Rick asks, and Daryl just grunts in response. Rick chuckles. “Finish the paper and I’ll give you a reward.”

“You gonna show up at my door naked with a six pack ‘a Sam Adams an’ a bow on your nuts? ‘Cause I don’t know if that’s much of a reward.” Daryl glares again, this time at his crotch. Men do this kind of bullshitting with their buddies all the time, he tells himself. Making gay jokes don’t mean you’re gay. Don’t mean anything. Especially when said buddy is straight as a prize bull.

Tell that to his cock, though, which is significantly more interested in the idea of seeing Rick naked at his door than with Baruch Spinoza and John Stuart Mill's ideas of liberty and freedom of speech.

“I doubt your RA would be very happy seeing my pasty-white ass standing in the hallway,” Rick points out. “Besides, takes at least two hours to fly from Dallas to Atlanta, and then you have to factor in getting through security and baggage claim and getting a cab to your dorm and so you’re talking at _least_ four hours before I could get there, and I damn well hope you could get a page written in four hours.”

“Not with you fuckin’ _talking_ to me nonstop I can’t,” Daryl mutters, but he’s smiling and he hates that, hates that he’s just so fucking smitten. Like a damn middle-schooler instead of the college sophomore he is. He scowls at the screen and aggressively taps out another sentence.

“Okay, okay,” Rick says. “I’ll shut up for a bit. Gotta work on my geometry homework anyway.”

Daryl’s ears perk up at that. “Geometry?”

“I’m not trading with you, Dixon,” Rick says. “Finish your paper.”

Daryl sighs again and narrows his eyes at his computer screen again. “Just don’t see why I gotta worry about what some dumb dead bastard has to say.”

“You said that already,” Rick points out. “Now hush. I’m tryin’ to solve for x over here.”

Daryl frowns so hard he’s worried the scowl-lines are going to stick, then squares his shoulders and starts typing as fast as his index fingers will allow. It takes him another half an hour--although he seriously considers stopping to discreetly rub one out when Rick starts humming Ray Charles softly through the phone, but of course no good will come of that--but he finally pounds out some pretentious-sounding crap and then adjusts the spacing _ever_ so slightly so that the essay comes down to the bottom of page five.

He sighs in relief and leans back in the wooden college-provided computer chair and stretches his arms out over his head, rolling his neck to relax it. “Done,” he says, letting a little edge of triumph into his voice.

“Done?” Rick repeats, and Daryl hears a snapping sound that must be his geometry textbook closing with great force. “ _Done_ done?”

“Yeah,” Daryl says. He pulls up his email and bangs out a quick _here you go_ message to his professor, attaches the essay, and sends it off. “Now where’s my reward?”

There’s a knock on the door of the dorm room. Daryl blinks. “Rick…”

“Answer the door, Daryl,” Rick murmurs.

Daryl nearly trips over himself and all the furniture in the room as he scrambles to the door and flings it open to reveal Rick Grimes, his phone up to his ear and his free hand shoved down in the pocket of a Georgia State hoodie that Daryl recognizes as the one he’s been looking for since they’d spent Spring Break together at the lake the previous year. Daryl just stares at him, and after a moment Rick hangs up the phone and slips it in his pocket, smiling bashfully at Daryl.

“Missed you,” he says quietly. “And I had a little extra cash and there was a last-minute flight deal that came through my email and…” He shrugs, looking down at the floor. “Just wanted to see you. I’ve been, um, sitting out here this whole time. While you were working on your paper.”

“Rick,” Daryl says, running a hand through his hair. “I--”

“I think I’m in love with you,” Rick interrupts. “I think maybe I’ve been in love with you since that stupid Homecoming dance in tenth grade. And, um… well, I know you’re straight and all but I wanted you to know. I mean, you just wrote an essay about free speech, so this is, um, free speech. Right?” He chuckles awkwardly and keeps staring at the floor.

Daryl just stares at _Rick_.

After a moment, Rick shifts awkwardly on his feet. “Um… well, that’s what I came to tell you. I can… I can call my dad and see if he can come pick me up if--”

“Shut up,” Daryl says, and he reaches forward and grabs the strings of Rick’s hoodie and yanks him inside the room. “I love you too, you dumb asshole,” he says, and he grabs Rick’s face and kisses him soundly, all thoughts of philosophy and essays and old dead guys evaporating into the air as his mind and his heart fill up with the utter euphoria of what it feels like to have Rick’s lips on his. _Finally_.

 


	9. Unholy Confessions [skarlatha]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author chose not to use chapter tags. :)  
> Author of this chapter: [skarlatha](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/skarlatha)
> 
> Alone in the kitchen of Rick's house in Alexandria, Daryl makes a terrible confession, and Rick isn't sure he can accept something like this about his right-hand man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's for [TWDObsessive](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/TWDObsessive).

 

Rick stumbled backward, staring wide-eyed at Daryl, who had his own eyes fixed on the floor between them. “What?” Rick whispered, his mouth suddenly dry.  

“I said I l--”

“I heard what you said,” Rick interrupted. He raised a hand and ran his fingers through his own sweaty curls. “I mean why--why the fuck would you say that?”

Daryl huffed out a sigh and crossed his arms over his chest, tucking his fingertips into his armpits. He stared stonily out the window into the too-cheerful streets of Alexandria and didn’t say anything.

“It’s just…” Rick tried again, grinding his teeth a little. “Daryl, you know I can’t… you know I’m _not_ …”

“I know,” Daryl snapped. “But ‘s how I feel an’ I thought you oughtta know. Life’s too short, you know? An’ I don’t care if you don’t feel the same way. We can still… carry on like we been doin’, you know? Nothing has to change.”

“Jesus Christ,” Rick hissed under his breath. He turned to walk away, then thought better of it and looked back at Daryl. “How do you expect me to just forget something like this? You’re gonna be sitting across from me at the dinner table thinking about… and holy shit, I let you be alone with my _kids_. Motherfucker. What if--what if Carl turns out like you?”

Daryl bristled at that, doing a strange swaying motion like his body wanted to flinch away from Rick at the same time that it wanted to lunge forward and get in his face. “You’d fuckin’ love him just the same, you jackass. He’s your _son_.”

“Goddammit, Daryl, of course I’ll still love him. But I just don’t know if I can accept… _this_. About you or about him. About any of the group. Mother _fucker_.” Rick turned around and punched the wall, hard enough to sting but not hard enough to break either his knuckles or the sheetrock.

Daryl stepped forward and grabbed Rick’s shoulders, then shook him hard. “Get your shit together, man. This is _not_ that big of a deal.”

Rick squeezed his eyes shut rather than look at the man in front of him. “Is there any way you could just… change?”

Daryl snorted. “Fuck no. This is who I am. Just like that’s who you are.”

“Can we…” Rick let out a long, shaky sigh and looked back up into Daryl’s beautiful blue eyes. Dark blue. Blue like--

He shook his head hard to dispel the unreasonable fury and continued. “You really think nothing has to change? Between us?”

“Baby,” Daryl said, leaning forward and brushing his lips over Rick’s forehead, “I’ve known about _you_ for months an’ I’m still lettin’ you fuck the daylights out of me every night.” He lowered his chin a little and kissed Rick’s lips, then spoke against them. “Even though I know you used to cheer for the fuckin’ Steelers every Sunday with that mouth.”

“I just feel so… _God_ , Daryl. If I’d known you were a goddamn _Ravens fan_ \--”

“You woulda chased me out of the group at the quarry, I know,” Daryl said, sliding his arms around Rick slowly and pressing their bodies together. “Why’d you think I didn’t say nothin’ before now?”

“I just thought you were a reasonable human being, that’s all,” Rick murmured, but he relaxed in Daryl’s arms and hooked his leg around Daryl’s as he let the archer lean him back against the wall.

Daryl chuckled and dipped his head, licking and nipping at Rick’s collarbone. “You still love me?”

Rick grunted and lifted his chin to give Daryl more room to work. “Yeah, I still-- _fuck_!”

Daryl’s hand tightened on Rick’s cock and he looked up and grinned. “Think you can forgive me if I suck you off right here in the kitchen?”

Rick whimpered softly and looked around, listening to make sure no one else was in the house. “I’ll _try_ ,” he said, reaching down to unbuckle his belt.

Daryl laughed and kissed him again, deep and hungry. “It’s a good start, at least,” he said, then dropped to his knees.


	10. Sleepin' Sound [MAE]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a Tumblr prompt: Could you write Rick and Daryl sleeping together for the first time and one of them talks in their sleep?

There were many things that Daryl thought might be a problem when he finally decided to give in and sleep with Rick. For one, he would go ahead and face up to the truth, Rick was slightly crazy. Or at last prone to the occasional hallucination or anger fit. For another, Carl might be pissed at them. Or even Judith might have stopped liking Daryl scooping her up and raspberrying her belly. And then there was always the thought of what if the beard made his damn skin _too_ sensitive or what if Rick had a whopper of a cock that just wouldn’t fit in?

In the end though, all of that crap has been just about perfect. With Alexandria settled, Rick was as bright and happy as a daisy. Carl grinned at them and made all kinds of fun when they decided to do a proper “date” and Judith still squealed in joy at the raspberries. And the sex was freaking _hot_ –Daryl’s skin left with just enough beard marks and Rick’s cock just the damn most perfect fit for his ass.

So really, he thought he was in the clear. Big mistake he realized.

First came the snoring. That didn’t really bother Daryl too much. He knew Rick was prone to it from spending time in close quarters that first winter and he was prepared to suffer through. But then came grunty little whispers and _then_ , shit… _words_. “Ass,” Rick whispered. Daryl snorted out a laugh and then bit his lip to keep quiet. “Pretty ass…” Rick groaned again and then hummed in his sleep. “Blonde…”

Daryl’s laughter cut itself off in a choke. Blonde? _Blonde_? Daryl was nowhere near blonde. What hussy was Rick over there thinking about with a blonde ass. “Dick,” Daryl growled and reached forward, pushing Rick firmly off the bed and onto the floor. He listened in satisfaction as Rick thumped down and then started whining in pain. “ _Daryl_!” a very awake Rick snapped. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Me?” Daryl grumbled. “What the hell are _you_ doing, dreamed about blonde whores? Fucking asshole.”

Rick huffed and sat up so that his head was visibly over the bed. “I was dreaming about _you_ , you little bastard. Only you were younger…and had dirty blonde hair and were sucking at my wrist and your ass looked damn fine in those jeans.”

Daryl blinked. “…really?” he asked?

“Really,” Rick assured him and then smiled a slow, dirty smile. “Want me to come up there and prove it to you?”

Daryl grunted his acceptance and after a thoroughly amazing round of Rick being a dirty cop in the sack, they collapsed in exhaustion again and Rick went promptly back to sleep. “Cock…” he whispered after awhile and Daryl just rolled his eyes and shoved a pillow over his head. He guessed, if this was the only hiccup in their relationship, it wasn’t all that bad.


	11. Dandelions and Declarations [MAE]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I received a prompt from lovingnobodybutyou on Tumblr! Here it is! 
> 
> PROMPT: Please write a Rickyl where they aren’t dating, but Judith calls Daryl Papa during playtime… Thanks! :)

When it was all said and done, it took the wise word of a toddler to get them to pull their heads out of their asses. It was a quiet time in Alexandra, thank god. All the fluster and stress had for once melted away and the town was both quiet of walkers and quiet of in-fighting. And Daryl would have been an absolute idiot not to take advantage of it. So during one of the times that Rick was off with the other leaders of the town, strategizing for how to increase things like defense and food production, Daryl took Judith and sat her down in the grass outside on the front lawn and let her play wistfully with some dandelions that were shooting up out of the grass.

The smile on his face was contagious to everyone that walked past. He couldn’t help but keep looking around him at the simple things–Judith sitting on her blanket, grasping at yellow flowers that lined the edge of it. It was strange, something so simple like that. Before, in a place like this–all hightower money and prestige–there would have been Round-Up galore, plenty of chemicals to be sprayed down into the grass to kill the weeds that weren’t as loved as the even, green keels of a well-mowed lawn. But then here they were, the dead risen and the dandelions in full bloom. At least the world was good for something, Daryl thought.

And it was. It was good for the flowers. Good for Judith, too, sitting there with all the focus and determination that a learning child could muster. She tried to pluck one of the flowers, succeeded only in getting yellow bits all over her hands and then said with a rather healthy and loud whine, “PAPA!”

Daryl blinked. Then blinked again. And despite the fact that no one else was around to hear or to see, he started to blush fire red. He wasn’t her papa, wasn’t her daddy. Why in the world would she–

But before he could finish his thought, the familiar clip of Rick’s boots followed by a whispery, “Holy shit,” interrupted him. Daryl swung his head up to see Rick wide-eyed and standing at the fence, gazing down at his daughter still trying to pull the stem from the ground. “Did Judith just–”

“–I didn’t teach her,” Daryl cut in quickly. “Swear. Why would I–” He gulped. “Maybe she meant you?”

“Papa!” Judith said again and then slammed her fist into Daryl’s knee to get his attention, effectively discrediting any point he had.

Rick swallowed. Daryl swallowed. And then they met each other’s eyes–one set light like the summer horizon, the other dark like incoming night. And even though it was just one word, just one simple utterance from a child who didn’t know any better, that was the start of it all. Because wasn’t Daryl Judith’s Papa? Wasn’t he always? And more than that, more than anything about her, wasn’t he always Rick’s?


	12. Squeakin' [MAE]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I received a prompt from Synchro_Lies! Here it is! 
> 
> PROMPT: Getting Daryl clean???

When Rick put his mind to something, he did it. Ask Shane or Joe or Gareth or any of the others that had ever got on Rick’s bad side. When Rick was determined, he was damn well unstoppable. He would tear down valleys, mow down mountains, destroy the great and solid structures of anything that ever stood in his way. So there was no way in hell that a stubborn, belligerent redneck was going to stop him from getting what he wanted.

And what he wanted was for Daryl to stop smelling like his old pig sty.

Granted, Daryl whined and complained and then grunted and growled, and then shoved and fought, but in the end, despite being skinnier and with far less built-up bicep muscle, Rick managed to manhandle Daryl into the shower and turn the damn thing on, full blast even through Daryl’s quickly soaking clothing.

Daryl sputtered and spat, shook his head and proceed to get Rick far more wet than he himself was actually getting, but in the end, it didn’t matter. Daryl was getting washed damn fucking clean and Rick cackled at his victory, blocking the exit outside of the shower with his body so there was absolutely no escape from squeaky-clean goodness.

What Rick didn’t count on, though, was the rather hasty and desperate kiss that Daryl lunged forward to plant on his lips. He grunted in pure surprise and gasped a little, opening his mouth to the onslaught of teeth and tongue and pressure and way too much passion for the exact moment in time. He quickly fell into the rhythm of them, the feel of Daryl’s lips on his for the very first time and that little spark of electricity that shot down his spine straight into his groin caused his grip on the shower wall to go lighter, caused his body to melt just that little bit into Daryl’s embrace.

Which is how Daryl got away, shoving Rick to the side and racing out the door, dripping with the shower water that hadn’t quite soaked fully into his skin. Rick scowled at the door after him and bellowed that Daryl was going to get it no matter what. Because Rick wasn’t giving up now. Hell, they hadn’t even got to the soap!


	13. Garage [skarlatha]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter Tags** : Alexandria, Jealous!Rick, Realizations and Confessions  
>  **Author of this Chapter** : [skarlatha](http://archiveofourown.org/users/skarlatha)
> 
> Rick decides it's time to tell Daryl how he feels. But someone else may have gotten there first...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little ficlet for MAE for Christmas!

In the end, it’s nothing major that happens to change everything. All that happens is that Rick walks back into the house and sees Glenn and Maggie in the kitchen, Glenn leaned up against the counter with Maggie wrapped in his arms. Their lips are swollen from kissing but at the moment they’re just talking quietly, noses so close they’re almost touching, eyes locked on each others’ like binary stars and Rick looks at them and thinks about Daryl.

For all his flaws, once Rick makes up his mind about something, he immediately goes for it. Never let it be said that Rick Grimes is not a man of action. So he immediately turns around and walks back out of the house, burning up the ground beneath him as he heads for Aaron’s garage.

God, he’d been so _stupid_. He’s been desperate for Daryl this whole time, since the moment he first saw him, but until just now he’s always assumed that it was brotherly affection, a warriors’ bond from the battlefield and not a desire to jump the man’s bones. And really, even now it’s not terribly sexual. He’s not desperate for sweat and teeth and release, although he’s sure _that_ desperation will come as soon as he has Daryl in his arms. But no, now what’s buzzing in his head like a wasp in a sugar trap is much simpler than that.

He wants to come home after a long day and collapse into a bed that already has Daryl in it, wants to snuggle up beside the man and just fall asleep, let his troubles melt away in Daryl’s arms. He wants to gather Daryl up when he comes back from a long run, take his time with holding him and checking him for injuries instead of having to count the seconds and let go before it gets too long to be platonic. And he wants what he just saw--a quiet moment in the kitchen together, wrapped up in each other without the weight of the world on their shoulders, just for a few seconds.

So he’s going to go find Daryl. Tell him that he’s sorry for using a word like “brother” when what he really meant was “beloved.” Tell him that there are three things worth living for in this fucked-up world, and those things are his two children and the way it feels to have Daryl at his back, the way it _will_ feel to have Daryl in his arms. Tell him that he _loves_ him, dammit.

He rounds the corner to head for the garage and he hears voices. Daryl’s voice, and Aaron’s. So he pauses for a moment, trying to decide if this is a conversation he should interrupt or not.

“--don’t know about that,” Daryl is mumbling, his voice soft and sandstone-rough. “I mean, I ain’t nothin’ special.”

“You are,” Aaron assures him. Rick frowns and tightens his jaw but doesn’t make a move. “I knew it from the moment I saw you. Eric saw it too. You’re like no one else we’ve ever seen, even in the world before.”

“Stop.” It’s Daryl’s embarrassed tone, the one he uses for Carol when she hits on him, and that makes Rick’s blood heat up almost to boiling. Is Aaron _flirting_ with Daryl? Is that why Daryl is using that same tone?

Aaron chuckles. “Not until you agree with me.”

“Jesus, look at me,” Daryl grumbles. “All covered in motor oil an’ road dirt an’ fuck knows what else. Dirty hair. Ain’t showered since prob’ly February.”

“And yet you still manage to be by _far_ the hottest guy in Alexandria,” Aaron says, still chuckling, and Rick wants to hit him. “Probably the whole world these days. And you can even tell Eric I said that, because he agrees with me.”

“Shut up,” Daryl says, but there’s no venom in the tone and Rick clenches his fists at his sides, trying to tell himself that jealousy is not an attractive trait.

“I’m serious,” Aaron continues. “Matter of fact, when we were watching you out on the road, we talked about how if you weren’t taken we might ask if you wanted to fuck us. Both of us.”

“Are you--” Daryl starts, but he doesn’t finish the sentence on account of Rick bursting into the garage and making a very angry beeline for Aaron.

Rick pulls back his fist, snarling and setting his jaw for _violence_ , and he would have broken Aaron’s smug-ass nose if Daryl hadn’t reacted with lightning-quick reflexes and grabbed Rick around the waist, hauling him backwards and away from Aaron.

“The hell are you doin’, man?” Daryl practically yells, swinging Rick off to the side and giving him a shove so that he stumbles farther away.

Rick glares at Aaron over Daryl’s shoulder. “He shouldn’t say things like that to you. Pisses me off.”

“Things like what, Rick?” Daryl demands.

“That he wants to fuck you,” Rick spits out, venomous like a cottonmouth. “Telling you how hot you are. I don’t want to hear him ever say that shit again.” He looks over at Aaron again and points menacingly at him. “You keep your damn mouth _shut_ , do you hear me?”

Aaron opens his mouth to respond, but Daryl talks first. “The fuck does it matter to you who thinks I’m hot? Who wants me to fuck ‘em?”

Rick grits his teeth and takes in a huge breath through his nose, then turns his eyes back to Daryl, his gaze hot with fury and possession. “It _matters_ because the only one who should be fucking you is _me_.”

“Well, you coulda fooled me, because I’ve been practically throwin’ myself at you for months and you ain’t never cared before now,” Daryl snaps back. “So what’s changed?”

Rick blinks, some of the rage seeping from his eyes to be replaced by a bit of shame. Behind them, Aaron slowly backs away and lets himself into the house, leaving them alone in the garage, and Rick takes a deep breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’ve been a dumbass.”

“No shit.”

“But I was coming here today to tell you that. And to see if maybe you would love me too.” Rick drops his hand away from his face and peers up at Daryl through his eyelashes.

Daryl looks completely thunderstruck, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open. There’s a long, long silence, then Daryl clears his throat. “This how you usually say you love people? By barging in like a wild boar with your tail on fire an’ threatening to beat the shit out of nice guys like Aaron?”

“Nice guy my ass,” Rick mutters under his breath. “Talkin’ about kinky threesomes and shit.”

Daryl’s mouth curves up in a half-smile, his eyes twinkling. “You jealous, Grimes?”

Rick scoffs, then thinks better of it and shrugs. “Yeah.”

Daryl takes a step forward. “Then kiss me like you mean it, man.”

“I fucking will,” Rick says, and he pulls Daryl into his arms and does.


	14. Pretend I'm Yours [skarlatha]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter Tags** : No Zombies AU, First Kiss, Bartender Daryl  
>  **Author of this Chapter** : [skarlatha](http://archiveofourown.org/users/skarlatha)
> 
> A little fic I wrote for [MAE](http://archiveofourown.org/users/michelle_A_emerlind), from the prompt: _A fic starting with "Rick was gonna get his ass beat."_

Rick was gonna get his ass beat.

He knew, he _knew_ he shouldn’t have flirted with the pretty blonde sitting at the bar. He knew she was married, knew her husband was at the bar too, knew her husband and his _five burly friends_ were at the bar too, knew that nothing about flirting with the woman could possibly end well.

Unfortunately, his good friend Jack Daniels had done a really good job of convincing him that no harm could come from it. Add that to the combination of his year-long dry spell following his divorce and the low-cut shirt she was wearing that left very little to the imagination, and he really couldn’t help himself. Besides, he didn’t really expect her to go home with him or anything. He was just hoping he’d get a flirty little smile that he could maybe jack off to later when he got home. To his bachelor pad. Alone.

But now it seemed, as her husband and his buddies formed a loose half-circle around him, keeping him against the bar and preventing him from running away, that maybe it hadn't been such a good idea after all. Rick swallowed hard and braced himself for the first punch.

“You flirting with my wife?” The husband was kind of scrawny-looking and Rick could probably take him in a fight if it was just him, but that was the point, wasn’t it? The guy _wasn’t_ alone, and Rick was absolutely, positively about to get a can of whoop-ass opened up on him right here in this bar.

Lying seemed to be the only option. “I was just saying hello. Tryin’ to be friendly. That’s all.”

“Bullshit,” Pete spat out, giving Rick a shove on the shoulder. “Saw you looking down her shirt. You got a lot of nerve oglin’ my _wife_ , man.”

“I wasn’t… ogling…” Rick said, looking around a little frantically for an escape route that didn’t exist.

“Oh, so you were just admiring her necklace, right?” Pete said, scoffing. The burly dudes all laughed. Rick just swallowed hard and began wondering what his eulogy would be like and who would attend his impending funeral.

“He was,” said a low, gruff voice from behind Rick. From behind the _bar_. He turned around to see the muscular bartender standing there, hypnotic-blue eyes reflecting the neon lights from the beer signs hung around the room, sleeveless arms rippling as he leaned over the bar. “Ain’t that right, baby?” he said, looking at Rick with heat in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Rick said, his voice a little dry and rough. The bartender smelled like cigarette smoke and the deep forest, and he was so gorgeous it made Rick suddenly come to the conclusion that his college ‘bisexual phase’ maybe wasn’t such a phase after all. “Yeah, just thought it was a nice necklace.”

The bartender flashed him a grin and then looked out at the gathered burlies. “So you can stand down, gentlemen. My fiance here ain’t looked at a woman since he found out what his dick was for an’ I don’t like y’all standin’ around him like that.”

There was grumbling from the husband and his friends, and the blonde had her hand over her mouth and wide eyes like she was either horrified or trying not to laugh. “Why would I flirt with anybody else when I got a man like you?” Rick said to his new fiance, trying to shoot _thank you so fucking much_ vibes through their eye contact.

“Gotta get back to work,” the bartender said. “Love you, babe.” And he leaned forward and grabbed Rick’s chin and kissed him.

Rick whimpered and wasted no time in opening his mouth, letting the guy’s tongue sweep inside and start fucking his lips open, and he vaguely heard the disgruntled grumbling as the group dispersed, Jessie giving him a clap on the shoulder as she slid off her barstool and left with them. And then the group was gone, and there was absolutely no reason for them to keep kissing but they did anyway, Rick twisting around on the barstool to get a better angle and tangling his hand in the guys’s shaggy dark hair, getting his own tongue and lips involved in the kiss.

“Name’s Daryl,” the guy said during a spare moment when their mouths were apart, and then he dove back in, putting his hand on the side of Rick’s neck and practically setting his skin on fire. Rick moaned into his mouth and gasped out his own name when there was another short break, and my god he thought he might be in love at first kiss because this was _perfect_.

And then there was a catcall from one of the other patrons and Daryl pulled his mouth away and glared, yelling “Fuck you, Merle!” at a rough-looking biker across the room, and Rick gazed at Daryl, cataloging his sexy beard and thin but swollen lips, the curve of his cheekbones and the way Rick wanted to fall into the guy’s bed and never re-emerge.

Daryl turned back to him after another moment of glaring. “Work until last call. Interested in stayin’ until then? We could go back to my place and have another beer.”

Rick just stared for several seconds while he tried to get his blood flowing back into his brain instead of his dick, and after a moment Daryl shifted uncomfortably. “If you don’t want to--”

“I want to,” Rick blurted out. Daryl smiled and then leaned forward and kissed Rick again but slowly this time, full of exploration and curiosity and possibilities.

“Sure thing, baby,” Daryl mumbled against Rick’s lips, and he pulled away and went back to work while Rick sat on his barstool and tried to concentrate on not melting into a puddle on the floor at the looks he kept getting from his sexy new savior.


	15. The Hot Pizza Guy and the Cute Babysitter [MAE]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A random drabble for highermagic's prompt "pizza guy/babysitter roleplay." It didn't really turn into roleplay, so it's just high school, but hopefully still good!

The doorbell rings and Rick flies to it like his life depends on it, tripping over about five gallons of toys and wondering alternatively if you can get scars on your feet from lego blocks and if scars that you get when you’re sixteen and trying to babysit will stay with you for the rest of your life.

The door smacks open with a bang and Rick, nearly breathless and feeling like every inch of him is frizzy, stares wide-eyed at the pizza guy who looks like he lost all sense of dignity somewhere between the pepperoni and the pineapple. His “Pete’s Pizza” visor is askew, his shirt is half untucked, and the pizza box in his hand is leaking grease onto his palm. He gives Rick a little whimpering, desperate look and Rick takes in the “Daryl” nametag as quick as he says, “Oh my god, you have to help me. Do five-year-olds eat pizza? I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, man.”

“...I circled your neighborhood five fucking times before I found your fucking address. What the fuck am _I_ doing?”

“I hate kids.”

“I hate pizza.”

One of Rick’s charges, the three-year-old, begins crying. Rick whimpers himself. Daryl, in front of him, bites his lip and then lets his eyes go wide. “Oh shit! Um...it’s sixteen fifty.”

“Oh!” Rick says and then reaches into his pocket for his money. He shoves a bunch of bills in Daryl’s direction and grabs the box, pulling it to his chest. “I think there’s a tip in there.”

“Thanks,” Daryl says and then blushes, which is about the time in which Rick realizes that the pizza guy is cute and he might have stepped into a bad soap opera plot. “And yeah. Kids eat pizza. Cut it up first, though.”

Rick breaths out a sigh of relief. “What about sleep? How do I get them to sleep?”

“Read them a story.”

“Play time?”

“Play with them. They like that shit. Make vroom noises for cars. Make voices for barbies.”

“Shit, you’re good at this,” Rick says and then cocks his hip out a little, giving a little eye flirt and immediately blushing at his own awkwardness.

“And uh…” Daryl starts and then scratches the back of his head. “Where’s 1600 S. Hamilton?”

“Down the street, two blocks, and then take a right, a left, and it’s the second house down.”

“Fuck me,” Daryl says with a breath. “You’re a goddamn GPS.”

They fall into silence, staring at each other for a minute before they both gather breath and blurt out.

“Pete’s is hiring,” Daryl says.

“The Jeffersons are probably going to fire me,” Rick declares.

They both let out puffs of breath and gives little smiles, nodding at each other in their mutual disdain of their jobs and the prospect of new ones. But why stop there, Rick wonders to himself and ever so cooly pulls his phone out of his back pocket. “Put your number in,” he says with a sleazy wink. But Daryl must think it’s not sleazy at all, because his bites his lip and takes the phone, types his number into it, and then pushes it back toward Rick.

“See you around, stranger,” Daryl says and while he turns and walks down toward the street, Rick calls after him.

“It’s Rick, hot pizza guy!”

 

 


End file.
